<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>All sacrificed for your dark eyes by onestepatatime32</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283897">All sacrificed for your dark eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime32/pseuds/onestepatatime32'>onestepatatime32</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Brat'ya Karamazovy | Brothers Karamazov - Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Takarazuka Revue Musicals, The Brothers Karamazov - All Media Types, The Brothers Karamazov - Takarazuka Revue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based on the musical but very book-applicable because the book owns my heart, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mitya is a mess, Post-Canon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:40:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>718</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24283897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime32/pseuds/onestepatatime32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan to steal Mitya away from exile isn’t going as smoothly as hoped.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dmitri "Mitya" Fyodorovich Karamazov/Agrafena "Grushenka" Alexandrovna Svetlova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Guess the Author round Two</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All sacrificed for your dark eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Contribution 1/2 for part 2 of the Takarazuka guess the author game! Prompt: “stay still”<br/>Expanded a bit from the original ~500 words.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dragging a limping exile who has been shot in the side away from a brawl under the noses of several armed guards and into a cart full of crates and skins for sale is not a feat many can brag of. it is also not one Grushenka had aspired to that day, but here she was, heaping skins on top of Dmitry and urging the driver Katerina had hired to move before the absence of a prisoner was noted. They had to reach the town, get away, get him to a doctor, she thought with a deep breath. He had been able to clamber into the cart without much difficulty; surely the wound was not as severe as she feared. When they had driven far enough she hazarded a glance behind her at where he lay half hidden in the cart. He grinned up at her painfully. </p><p>“Not so bad a view.” </p><p>“Stay still.”</p><p>“You didn’t forget me...” his voice broke and shattered her heart with it. “I wanted to give up or fight so many times—they did beat me after all you know—but I kept thinking of you back at the station—“ he gasped and cut himself off; he had strained too much trying to reach a hand out to her. </p><p>“Really, if you waited as long as all that could you not have waited another moment? Such a brawl, Mitya! You careless—“</p><p>“I didn’t know if another chance would come! It’s been so long, Grushka...” he shivered. </p><p>Any further frustrations died on her lips as she looked at him. He was thin-too thin-his clothes were so ragged, his eyes so wide; with every shallow breath she watched him take now the moment replayed in her head, their hands finally meeting in the chaos, only for his to tighten around hers as the shot struck him… She climbed into the back of the cart to inspect his wound, wincing to see the ugly, ragged hole in his side.</p><p>“That bad?” He asked weakly. She had begun to tear strips of fabric from her skirts with a ferocity that nearly frightened him. </p><p>“Don’t shout,” she warned, pressing a hand over his mouth to stifle his cry of pain as she pressed some makeshift bandages to his side. Tears she couldn’t blink away blurred her vision and made everything before her seem like a sea of red.</p><p>“Hsst! A guard!” Grushenka jumped at Anatoly’s alert and pulled back, steeling herself as she flung some skins over Dmitry and huddled awkwardly next to the driver to obscure the blood on her dress.</p><p>“What’s your purpose here?” The guard sighed. </p><p>“Skins to trade in town, sir.”</p><p>“Seen anyone unusual on the road?” </p><p>“No sir,” he replied. Grushenka tried not to think of Mitya lying behind her, of his blood staining the skins that hid him, the cart, the ground. She willed him to hold on, to stay hidden and quiet, for his heart to keep beating, she thought, fighting the icy terror rising in her throat.</p><p>The guard’s gaze drifted to the items in the back of the cart. In a moment of inspiration Grushenka sat up suddenly and cried out wildly; “The baby! Oh, help—!” </p><p>Anatoly recovered well despite the lack of warning and took on a pleading tone. “Sir, my poor wife is expecting a child; our third child, though the others are in heaven, God be with them; and she is unwell. We had hoped to reach the doctor before nightfall.”<br/>
The guard hesitated, but at another bout of crying from Grushenka he waved them on. As soon as he was out of sight she vaulted into the back of the cart again.</p><p>“Mitya! Mitya,” she whispered urgently. He was silent and still. </p><p>“Mitya..” Her hands shook so she could hardly pull the furs off of him, but at her touch he faintly stirred. </p><p>“A baby so soon? I thought we wanted a little more time.” </p><p>She shook her head at him. “Really, how can you joke like that!” </p><p>He laughed with difficulty, but sobered again. “You’re braver than I could be in a thousand years, </p><p>She squeezed his hand and smiled as the lanterns of the town grew nearer. Whatever the perils of the day had been, at least their next journey would be together.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>